


Family business

by darkandstormyslash



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Follows the events of season 7, Hand Jobs, Mafia AU, Modern AU, Multi, Non-Graphic Violence, SPOILERS for seasons 1-7, Strong Language, Violence, and scenes of a sexual nature, pretty much the same warnings as for game of thrones
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-23 18:36:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 5,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11995620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkandstormyslash/pseuds/darkandstormyslash
Summary: What do we do while waiting for a new season of Game of Thrones? Why write a mafia AU of course! The major families are all mafia syndicates in a big sprawling city; now they're facing an outside threat that may destroy them all.This is set from season 7 onwards so SPOILERS for all existing seasons.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> This is shamelessly based around my favourite characters, so is likely to feature a bit more Theon, Qyburn and Bronn than is strictly necessary. Each alternate chapter will be a flashback, to cover bits of seasons 1-6 that I wanted to include. The other chapters will cover the events of season 7 as closely as a modern AU is able to. Chapters are short and will be up reasonably regularly. Enjoy!

"What are we going to do," Jaime asks, looking up from his laptop, stacked up on a multitude of papers spread over his desk, "About the Greyjoy kids?"

Cersei doesn't answer, just stares out of the window at the city below. The Lannisters own one of the tallest and most enviable pieces of real estate in the city, and Cersei has a wide view of most of the business district and the wide sprawling river. Jaime has to bite at the back of his cheek to try and still the now familiar rush of hatred. He knows in the past he's felt all sorts of things for his sister, including a wild passionate dislike that more often than not tumbles them both into bed, but it's only in the last few weeks that he's started to feel genuine hard hatred. It makes him miserable and angry and he can't seem to shake it from his mind.

"Who are the Greyjoy kids?" Qyburn asks, peering across from the other side of the table. Jaime scowls at him. Qyburn is still technically a medical student, but he's also now the pet doctor of one of the most dangerous mafia families in the city.

Or at least, Jaime desperately hopes they're still one of the most dangerous mafia families.

"They're nobody." Cersei responds, because apparently she answers Qyburn now, but not him, "A couple of stupid kids with delusions of grandeur."

"They are all over these reports." Jaime snaps back, and of course she turns back to the window and doesn't answer him.

Qyburn picks up a piece of paper and squints at it, with the confused air of a man who spends most of his time around people laid out unconscious on a slab. Jaime sighs and snatches it out of his hands. "They're Balon Greyjoy's kids. He had a biker gang that terrorised the entire west coast before he got too overconfident and tried to take on the Starks. They flattened him. One of the kids stayed with Balon, the other went into foster care. Now they're both back together and looking for trouble. And they hate us."

"What can they possibly do to us?" Cersei finally turns around to look at him, but instead of feeling a rush of relief, or love, Jaime finds himself starting to wonder whether his beloved sister has actually gone mad. It's true, a couple of biker kids would be no challenge to a big family, but the Lannisters are now a rapidly collapsing empire. When a syndicate goes down, scavengers start to circle, and the Greyjoys are born scavengers. Cersei is acting as if they still have the sort of power they possessed when their father was alive. "They will be dealt with." Cersei finishes, as if that settles the matter.

Jaime is not satisfied. "Maybe they can't destroy us, but they can cause us trouble, more trouble than we need at the moment. Any trouble is more trouble than we need, even if it's just some wayward biker kids."

"I'll be speaking to their uncle." Cersei interrupts, and Jaime feels his ears start to burn. He doesn't mind that she disrespects him, she always has, but now she's doing it in front of Qyburn. She speaks to Qyburn far too much, always alone, and doesn't take council from anyone else. If it wasn't such a laughable idea Jaime would wonder whether they were having an affair. "He will deal with the matter."

Jaime scowls. "Their uncle? Didn't they steal a load of his stuff before they vanished overseas? They're hardly going to listen to him."

"I didn't say they'd listen to him." Cersei's smile is tight-lipped and thin, "I said he would deal with it."


	2. Flashback 1: Theon and Robb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first of the flashback chapters. I'm putting these in italics to keep them separate from the main plot because I am easily confused. This one features Theon, Robb, handjobs, and sadness.

_The first time young Robb Stark sees Theon Greyjoy, he falls in love. He's only seven, and Theon is nine years old and glowering, in a sleeveless black shirt, a pair of ripped jeans and big black Doc Martin boots. He's got a bruise fading on his face, a sneer curling around the side of his mouth, and Robb is too young to realise that Theon is terrified._

_All the kids are brought together, Robb's younger sisters and brothers and even his sulky older stepbrother mooches in and hangs around the back. His father pushes the strange boy forward and introduces him. "Children, this is Theon Greyjoy, he'll be living here as your foster brother. I want you all to welcome him, and be kind to him."_

_Later, Robb hears his mother and father arguing._

_"How could you do it? How could you even think this was an acceptable idea, letting some hooligan boy into our house, to live with our own children! I don't want a foster child, Edward, I don't want some strange dangerous boy living in my own house."_

_"He stays here." His father sounds angry, but not angry at his mother, and Robb can't quite understand why, "If he's here, Balon won't try a stunt like that again."_

_"You killed his brothers!" His mother's voice is high and slightly hysterical and his father quietens her down so Robb misses the next few words but they end with "- and you promised me then that my own children would never be in danger."_

_"They are in no danger at all." His father says, and Robb can't help but feel a little comforted, even if he can't really see how the big tough-looking boy would be a danger._

* * *

_When Theon is seventeen and Robb is fifteen they jerk each other off under the blankets in Theon's little room at the back of the house. Afterwards Robb lies staring at the ceiling in a state of empty bliss while Theon fiddles with a cigarette and bites his nails._

_Eventually he says, "You won't tell your father, will you?"_

_"Hmm?" Robb frowns, "I - well - no. I don't have to."_

_"Please don't."_

_Robb hates the smell of cigarettes, but when Theon smokes he rather likes it. It seems cool and grown-up, one of the many cool and grown-up things Theon does; like drinking, showing off his tattoo, getting phone numbers from girls, or driving the car for father's work. "Do you think he'd have a problem with me sleeping with men?"_

_"I think he'd have a problem with you sleeping with me."_

_"Is it because I'm too young?" Robb asks, biting his lip, and Theon rolls his eyes._

_"You're hardly young, I was younger than you when I first had sex."_

_Robb can't really tell if Theon's telling the truth, or just trying to make himself look cool. He's not sure whether he'd prefer it to be the truth or not._

* * *

_The last time Robb Stark sees Theon Greyjoy, Theon is pulling on his helmet and revving up his motorbike. He's all in his black riding leathers, with a silver kraken picked out in studs on the back. He gives Robb a grin and a thumbs up, patting his back pocket._

_"Got the message. I'll go straight to find my dad, my real dad. The damn Lannisters will be too busy dealing with us to bother about any of their business interests, you can swoop right in and take over the whole lot."_

_"You think?" Robb still feels impossibly young to be doing any of this. It feels like a game, like two boys playing at being crime bosses. He thinks of his father's body - lying cold and dead in the warehouse where he'd been found, and of his sisters still living with the murderers. There's so much to do, and Robb isn't sure he'll be able to do it without Theon by his side. "If you can't find him, come straight back, alright? I don't want you getting into any danger."_

_Theon laughs, "Danger? Don't you worry, Robby Stark, danger is afraid of me."_

_His motorbike roars off, but Robb is older now. Old enough, certainly, to be able to tell when Theon Greyjoy is terrified._


	3. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to the main plot - and checking in with Team Targaryen.

The Dragon House, as everyone calls it nowadays, is far too big. Yara Greyjoy prides herself on her sense of direction, but even after living here for a week she still gets easily lost every time she ventures above the ground floor. The Dragon House has a history, and part of that history involves a good few years as a hotel, which is why the place is full of identical corridors and too many doors. It also explains the large crumbling dragons carved over the entrance gates - a bad attempt at some sort of 'oriental' motif that runs through the whole building and gardens.

It's the center of Daenerys Targaryen's operations, and one thing Yara is learning about her new boss is that she loves things that are big, impressive and glitzy.

She opens a door and comes face to face with a rather startled semi-naked lawyer with a turban on his head and a towel wrapped around his waist. Somehow she's found her way into Varys's bathroom. "Sorry mate, have you seen my brother?"

"I ... no. He's usually with you..."

"We're heading off tomorrow to pick up the gear from Dorne. I just wanted to check he was... alright."

Yara hates it, hates that her brother is in this state, hates that there's nothing she can do to make him better, and hates that there's no chance of properly avenging him. Three years having his mind pulled apart by a deranged psychopath in an abandoned abattoir, and she can't help but feel frustrated that it seems to be taking him so long to get better, even as she knows he probably never will.

Varys looks concerned, and Yara manages to give him a brief smile. "We'll be fine."

"You know, if he ever wants to talk..."

She knows Varys has as much of a past as anyone. He's a top lawyer now but she's pretty sure he started off with an abusive uncle and there are rumours he used to be a rent-boy. Yara really doesn't want to think about uncles right now.

She makes her excuses and leaves, heading down to the basement instead where she finds Theon in the underground carpark sitting on his new bike staring vaguely at the wall. She stands next to him and clears her throat, watching him jump and flinch and refocus.

"We're leaving tomorrow at first light." She says gently, once his eyes focus on her, "Ellaria will be on the back of my bike, Tyene on yours."

He frowns, "I thought I was taking Ellaria."

"Change of plan." She smirks and give him a wink and he sighs and gives her the closest expression she ever gets to a smile; a small quirk of the lips and a softening around his eyes.

"She's old enough to be your mother." He grumbles, but doesn't complain. He pats the bike instead, stroking gently along the handles, "I used to drive for him you know, Stark. I did a getaway car once. I was pretty good. He would've used me more but I'm not sure he trusted me."

Yara isn't sure whether it's a good sign or a bad sign that he's talking about the past. She makes a non-committal noise.

"He set my bike on fire." Theon murmurs, and now she knows he's not talking about Edward Stark. She feels her breath catch a little, watching him warily, waiting to see where the thought takes him. But it only produces a shiver and a bit of a twitch before he looks up at her again.

"First light, yeah okay. Do you need me to take any of your things?"

"I'm fine." She pats his shoulder, "Don't stay here all night. Get some sleep."


	4. Flashback 2: The Greyjoys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback chapter - Theon goes back home.

_Yara can't remember saying goodbye to her brother. She knows she must have done, must have said something when the corrupt authority figures carried him off to the dubious foster care of Edward Stark, but she has no memories of the day. She remembers the days before; the shouting the arguements, the stink of injured men. She remembers Maron and Rodrik's bodies coming back in black bin-bags. She remembers the expression on her father's face when he saw them, but she doesn't remember Theon._

_Even her memories of him before he left are hazy. A little shadow of a boy; thin and solemn looking, usually whimpering or grousing about something. Theon was always overshadowed by his older brothers._

_It isn't a shadow though, that rolls up outside the tower block with a big loud engine and shiny leather jacket. She recognises her brother's face, as he takes off his helmet and runs a hand through his hair, even if his mannerisms are alien. She saunters down the stairs and heads out to meet him._

_His teeth are white and clean, his smirk is arrogant. He flirts outrageously and grabs at her in the lift. She lets him kiss her only because she can't see a single glint of recognition in his eyes._

_Balon is in their tiny flat, sitting in front of the TV. He looks up when Theon enters, and she can tell it won't go well, the homecoming of this strange brash young man who is nominally her brother. He's been brought up in a big house, with rich food and good clothes. She can see his lip curling as he looks around their tiny flat; the stains on the walls, the pile of dirty laundry on the chair. Yara escapes to the kitchen and switches on the kettle, half an ear listening out for them._

_Yara starts counting under her breath. When she reaches fifteen there's the sound of a slap and a gasp from the room where her father and brother are talking. She takes out the tea in three cracked mugs, ignoring the angry red flush on the side of his brother's face, and the shocked look in his eyes._

_"Tea, father?"_

_She knows she should feel cruel, as the dawning recognition lights his eyes, but she can't bring herself to. He's had advantages she can only dream of. The only thing he's useful for, this preening dolled-up brother of hers, is the knowledge he brings about the Starks. The knowledge they can use to bring down the Stark empire from the inside out, and finally avenge her older brother's deaths._

_And then she does feel a little sorry for Theon, because even now, he's still no more than a shadow._


	5. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to the Lannisters - Jaime and Bronn have a talk. Warnings for mentions of sexual assault (they are literally just mentions).

Jaime hates Euron Greyjoy before he even meets him, and after the first meeting he hates the man even more. Everything about Euron Greyjoy screams to him that the man is an untrustworthy poser; from his stupid greasy hair to his black riding leathers and studded boots. "You realise," He snaps at Cersei the minute the two of them are finally left alone, "You realise he's probably gay, right? He did rape both of his brothers."

"You know he isn't." She responds, "And you once raped me."

He stomps out of the building in a shameful rage, down to the harbour-side where he knows he'll find Bronn. Jaime dislikes Bronn and doesn't trust him but of all the people he knows, Bronn is the only one who never bothers to attempt to be likable and trustworthy and Jaime can at least respect that. Bronn is also, shamefully, a link to his estranged younger brother, an irritating and disobedient link that he can't quite bring himself to sever.

True enough, Bronn is leaning against the wall having a smoke. He doesn't bother to straighten or stop as Jaime approaches, just gives him a nod, "Alright?"

"No." Jaime grabs the offered cigarette moodily.

"Thought you were quitting."

"I am." Jaime gives the cigarette a foul look. "I can't stand that man."

"Which one?"

"Which one do you think? Euron fucking Greyjoy." He leans back against the wall and sighs, looking out over the harbour water at the lights twinkling across the water. "He's not even part of this city, he's been abroad for the last fifteen years."

"He's made a lot of friends." Bronn points out, "Contacts across the world. And you're a bit low on friends right now."

Jaime glares at him, "What exactly do you want out of this?"

"Told you, a big rich sloany wife. I want to retire in a massive city house and smoke expensive cigars while spending all her father's money and embarrassing people in country clubs."

"I can't force some woman to marry you."

"You can't force." Bronn admits, "But you can speak to people. Say certain things, pull certain favours, arrange certain arrangements."

"That's highly immoral at the very least."

"Better or worse than pushing kiddies out of windows?"

"One kid!" Jaime snaps, "And the Stark boy didn't even die." He sighs, and lets the cigarette fall from his fingers onto the grubby street below. "That's what started this whole thing off, isn't it? The Littlest Stark and his damn broken legs."

"I thought it started when that one bloke fucked that other bloke's wife." Bronn answers tactlessly, "You know, the son of the one you shot in the back."

"In the head. I shot Aerys Targaryan in the head."

"Back of the head."

"Does it really matter where I shot him?"

"Not to me." Bronn gives him a grin, "I don't give a damn. But his daughter is back now, and I've got a feeling she does."


	6. Flashback 3: Blackwater harbour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback to Blackwater harbour! Also this chapter finally gets round to doing a bit of world building and explaining what all the different families are actually up to.

_Even the largest city can only support a certain number of criminal families before the competition starts to devour itself, so as a result many of the larger syndicates have specialised. The Lannisters started off fencing stolen goods, now they find buyers for dubiously acquired gold and smuggled diamonds. The Tyrells are in drugs, pure-white cocaine or pretty little tabs stamped with a golden rose. The Starks do security, only just brushing the wrong side of the law with muscle and guns for hire with no questions asked. At the Eyrie, the tall glass office tower at the far eastern edge of the business district, something distinctly suspicious goes on with computers and nobody is quite sure what._

_The Baratheons have made their money through smuggling. Tyrion Lannister points along the waterfront of the city map laid out over Bronn's bed and taps at the harbour, "If we destroy the boats, we destroy the Baratheons."_

_"It seems to me," Bronn points out, while Shae pours them all another drink, "That if it was that easy, somebody would have done it already."_

_"They were protected by the Starks." Tyrion answers, "But now there aren't any Starks left. All of Edward's sons are dead, his stepson's in the army and the daughter that isn't stuck here with us is nine years old. He can't defend the whole harbour with a nine year old girl."_

_"If you destroy these ones, can't they buy new boats?" Shae asks. She's not meant to be involved in this sort of strategic planning, but she always asks good questions and Tyrion never complains._

_"Stannis took out a loan to buy the boats they currently have." Tyrion shrugs, "If these are destroyed he's hardly going to be given another one. With both of his brothers dead, he thinks he can make the money back by trying to undercut us, shipping over diamonds and then selling them off. We need to get into that harbour and destroy every single boat before Stannis finds enough friends to protect him."_

_Bronn gives a snort and leans back, tucking his arms behind his head, "Sooner you than me."_

_"You'll be there. You're vitally important to the plan."_

_Bronn raises his eyebrows, "Oh am I now? And who will be ordering me to do that?"_

_"I will." Tyrion glances at him, "You'll be paid incredibly well."_

_"Does that mean you'll be asking me to do something dangerous?"_

_"It means," Tyrion answers carefully, "That you will be rich for the rest of your life."_

_Bronn finds himself looking at Shae, who is watching him back, seeing how far his loyalty holds. Sometimes, Bronn thinks, it would be nice to be a loyal man, to make choices based on kindness or duty. Maybe it would make his life easier. He's pretty certain it would make his life shorter._

_"What exactly," he answers finally, "Do you want me to do?"_

* * *

_The fight over Blackwater harbour is nasty and brutish, and only really ends when an angry green-mohawk-wearing Loras Tyrell screeches up in Renly's old Mercedes-Benz and goes mad with a sub-machine gun. Bronn is pretty sure that the only reason the Lannisters technically win is because more of them happen to be behind the gun than in front of it._

_Then it's just a point of picking up the bodies._

_Bronn stands among the wreckage, still holding the flare gun he used to set the first boat alight. He always feels the same after a fight, a sort of numb disillusionment mixed with a strong desire to get drunk and celebrate the fact that he's still alive. He can see Loras, speaking with Tyrion's father and looking utterly miserable, and he remembers that Loras was rumoured to be Renly's boyfriend. Poor old Renly, dead in mysterious circumstances that everyone will probably be more than happy to pin on Stannis just to keep things simple._

_"I better be getting paid for this." Bronn mutters to nobody in particular._

_With Renly dead and Stannis defeated, that's the end of the Baratheons, Bronn is sure of it. Which means at least he's picked the winning side. No Starks, no Baratheons, the Lannisters run the city and the next day, when Tyrion's spoiled nephew Joffrey officially adds him to the Lannister payroll, Bronn thinks the future looks pretty golden._


	7. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quick trip up to the Northern side of the city to see what the remaining Starks are up to, and the threat to the city's criminal underworld is revealed.

The Stark network of underground and semi-legal private security is in a shaky state at present, but now it's no longer being run by a gang of vicious slave traders people and customers seem to be returning. Sansa remembers her father used to say that there were goods, services and people, all of which should be treated differently. To the Boltons, there had only been goods and services.

She sits in her fathers old study, trying to accustom her brain to the kind of work it has never prepared for. Every one of her fathers old contacts is angling for a pay rise; even those that were happy to openly support the Boltons and their ferrying of human cargo. Jon is insisting that everyone be treated equally; Sansa would be quite happy to fire anyone who ever shook hands with Roose Bolton.

"Besides which..." she mutters under her breath, "There isn't enough money to pay everyone."

"Surely it should be you making that decision?" Murmurs Petyr Baelish from next to her. She needs him, unfortunately, because she knows she's still not ready to manage it all herself. He's currently CEO at the Eyrie, but Sansa knows the Eyrie is full of very ambitious people who take a dim view of a CEO who never works there. Baelish, Sansa is beginning to realise, has a lot less power than the thinks he does.

She ignores his question though, not least because her stepbrother knocks gently at the door and then enters the room. He's still wearing his army jacket, even though he's technically been discharged it seems to have become almost a part of him. They've both changed over the last five years, both drawn into different lives which have adjusted them more than they realise.

"Can I help you, Colonel Snow?" She asks brightly, using his ex-rank because she knows it will irritate him but also probably draw a grudging smile at her teasing. Sure enough, the corners of his mouth twitch upwards.

"Just checking that you're alright." He glances at Baelish. "That you'll be alright while I'm away."

"We'll be fine." she answers pointedly, "And I still don't think you should go."

"I have to. They're threatening to move the military into the city to establish order. We're a security firm, not a militia, we can't protect ourselves against an army. The Targaryens can; they've always had contacts high up in the government. The Targaryen girl can stop this happening."

It's important, and Sansa knows it's important, but she finds it very difficult to make herself care when right now there are far more pressing and urgent concerns. She wants to keep the family business going, and it almost surprises her how much she wants it. She's determined that Stark Security should continue. Jon has his mind on higher things, and Sansa sometimes wishes he'd come back down to earth a bit, or at least appreciate how difficult it is trying to run a business with no training or preparation.

"Just stay safe." She answers eventually. "Just because you think it's important, doesn't mean the Targaryens will. Or anyone else for that matter. She might be perfectly happy for the army to clean up the rest of the competition." She can feel Baelish's eyes on her, and the silent appraisal of how likely he finds the scenario she's just suggested. "They want you here, everyone wants you to run the Stark empire. You're Edward Stark's oldest son."

_Even if,_ she thinks silently, _you were born over a year after he married my mother._

"Just keep things running." He breaks out into a rare smile. "I know I'm leaving it in good hands."


	8. Flashback 4: the recruit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another flashback chapter - Jon joins the army

_Ever since he can remember, Jon has wanted to be in the military. Technically, he knows, he's Edward Stark's eldest son, and if he wanted to stay in the family a place could probably be found for him. But it isn't that simple; by now all the Stark children with the possible exception of Rikkon have done the maths regarding his birth and conception. He's still introduced as Edward Stark's child from a previous relationship but only because it's politer than introducing him as the result of Edward Stark's affair._

_Tyrion Lannister, the youngest and least regarded Lannister child, comes with him to the army recruitment centre in the grounds of the training base. It seems very far from home. As they watch, a group of men jog around the side of the mesh wire with a drill sergeant shouting at them, before they disappear into the woods._

_"That'll be your life now." Tyrion says, then gives a shudder. "One thing I am grateful for is that I will never be able to pass the physical requirements for joining the army. I'm pretty sure if it had been an option I would've been shipped off here years ago."_

_"I'm not being shipped off." Jon mutters back. All the same he can't help but feel a twinge of sadness at the fact that his father isn't here to see him off. His father is busy, he knows, securing business with the Baratheons, but Jon has been nursing a secret and desperate hope that Edward will suddenly drive up and give him a final goodbye handshake. Ruffle his hair and tell Jon he's proud of him. It's probably not a very army-like thought._

_"No drinking, no women, nothing but physical hardship and terrible food." Tyrion gives him a look of concern. "Are you sure you want to do this?"_

_"I've always been sure." Theon tried to buy him a prostitute, Jon remembers, the night before he left in a hideously mistimed attempt at brotherly bonding. Jon isn't altogether happy about leaving Theon with Robb. He feels strangely protective of his younger half-brother, and it hasn't escaped his notice that Theon and Robb are getting incredibly handsy together. With Edward away for work, he's worried that Theon will try and take advantage._

_Jon shakes his head, he can't think of either of them anymore. Or Sansa or Rikkon, not even Arya. He'll miss Arya the most, he knows, his wild little sister who could outshoot him at the practice gallery. He closes his eyes and sends a brief prayer up to anyone who might be listening to keep her safe._

_"Ready?" Tyrion asks._

_Jon doesn't answer. He steps forward and into the recruiting office. He doesn't think then that he'll ever see any of them again._


	9. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theon and Yara head for Dorne.

It's a good five hours journey from the city to the suburb of Dorne, even in light traffic, so Yara and Theon stop off at a small village petrol station where Yara and Ellaria promptly vanish into the ladies toilets. Theon sighs, fills up the bikes, buys a can of diet coke for Tyene, then sits outside in the sun resting against a low wall. Outside of the city center he can feel his anxiety melt away a little bit.

The sun is warm, and Theon closes his eyes and looks upwards, watching the space behind his eyelids turn from black to pink. He thinks one day he would like to buy a house out here. Away from dark abattoirs and urban spaces. Maybe Yara would like to live there to. He can hear the gentle hum of insects, the call of a bird far away, the occasional car zooming by, the roar of a motorbike engine getting closer.

Theon's eyes snap open.

He scrambles upright in a panic. He has so many false starts of panic nowadays that it takes him a few moments to realise this one is genuine. Yara and Ellaria are coming out of the petrol station, all smirks and giggles and completely unprepared to walk straight into Euron Greyjoy.

Euron Greyjoy is more than prepared for them, and he hasn't come alone.

Theon scrambles in his pocket for a flick-knife, dragging it out with shaking hands as Yara gives a yell and lunges forward. Ellaria screeches and pulls out a knife of her own. A man lunges at Theon and he desperately slashes forward, managing to pull himself together enough to follow through with a hit that at least connects. He hears Tyene cry out from next to him as Euron grabs a petrol pump and cracks her on the side of the head with it, laughing like a lunatic as the petrol splashes out onto the forecourt.

The man inside the shop runs out with an angry yell, then scoots back to safety as Euron pulls out a gun, firing it at the door. Theon can see him inside dialing frantically for the police but he knows with a sinking heart that by the time they arrive it will be too late.

"Theon! Hey, Theon!"

Euron calls his name, and Theon whirls around, heart pounding frantically. He can smell petrol fumes in the air, mixed with blood and rubber and leather. Euron has Yara, the gun pressed against her temple as she struggles.

"Come on you cockless coward..." Euron snarls, throwing the leaking petrol pump to the side. "I have her, come and get her."

Theon isn't sure where the spark comes from. Maybe from the gunshot, maybe the heat from the sun reflecting off a mirrored surface. Whatever it is though, it catches the black leather on the side of his bike which goes up with a woosh. Euron leaps backwards, the men holding Ellaria and Tyene yelp and scrabble for safety as the flames start to spread, and Theon's bike is burning.

His bike is burning.

He stares through the flames, eyes wide and shocked, body trembling. He's not sure which bike it is anymore, he's not sure who he can hear laughing in the background. It smells the same, exactly the same as the bike that Ramsay burnt, part of him is back in the abattoir tied to that chair and his arms clench into fists around bindings that suddenly ... aren't there.

He's not tied down. He's not tied anywhere.

His legs move before his mind does, scrabbling on the concrete. He can hear men shouting, Euron laughing and Tyene sobbing. In the distance there are police sirens, and squealing car breaks.

And Theon Greyjoy runs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The great thing about setting this in a single city rather than a sprawling fantasy world means that I can cut right back on the number of extras needed. It isn't Yara, Theon and a whole crew of bikers, it's literally just Yara and Theon on the road. I've also cut down the number of Sand Snakes because lets face it, the TV series did nothing for them at all.


	10. Flashback 5: Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This is the Theon Greyjoy torture chapter. It had to happen. It wasn't easy to write. Nothing is particularly graphically described, but it does happen and it's all horrible so tread carefully.

_There's an exact moment Theon Greyjoy slips into hell. Maybe on some level it's a gradual descent, all the way from abandoning Robb Stark, ignoring his father, through to attempting to take over the whole of Stark Security with five bored bikers. But even a slow descent has a moment, a single instance that turns life from redeemable to irredeemable._

_For Theon Greyjoy it's the moment where he's standing, trembling, over the bodies of two murdered homeless kids, covered in blood from them and vomit from him. The moment when Dagmer turns to him and says with a shrug, "They don't look anything like the Stark kids."_

_"I'm not killing anyone else." Theon sounds slightly hysterical, and he can tell Dagmer is unimpressed._

_"Then what are you going to do?"_

_They partially burn the bodies, and Theon drags them back to the Stark headquarters and wonders why the more he shouts and rages and hits people the less anyone seems to respect him. The next day the music starts. It comes_ _from nearby; someone is blasting high-volume thrash metal at the Stark Headquarters every damn night until Theon is going mad. He storms out of the place at 2 am, following the sound with his flick-knife in hand and Dagmer striding silently next to him. He eventually locates an abandoned radio in a empty flat, upside-down in the bath. Destroying that radio is the most satisfying thing he's done probably in his whole life._

_It's the last time he ever feels even remotely satisfied for a long time._

_When he gets back to Stark Headquarters they won't let him in. He screams and rages at the walls and when he turns to Dagmer the man is holding a gun. Theon barely has time to blink in surprise before the gun slams into his right temple._

_When he regains consciousness, it turns out he really is in hell._

_He's tied to a chair in an abandoned abattoir in the old meat-packing district. The men who hold him there don't ask him any questions, they just hurt him - with fists, and pliers, and scalpels and a blowtorch. When he screeches for mercy they laugh and hurt him more. Sometimes they give him water, or food, most of which he ends up bringing up again. He has no idea how much time passes. He doesn't think he sleeps but sometimes he does pass out._

_Theon thinks nothing can be worse than this. But he's wrong, oh he's wrong._

_One night, or he thinks it's night, when the men have left a boy comes in to cut him free. Theon gibbers and shakes and the boy is helping him stand and stagger out of the room. It's a chance for freedom, a spark of hope that keeps him going as the boy leads him through narrow streets and strange passageways and hides him from the pursuers. When a group of them do catch up to him and find him, forcing him to the floor and yanking his jeans down, the boy puts a bullet in every one of them. The spark of hope reflames, keeps Theon moving, staggering forwards with the boys protective arms around him. Through a door, down a corridor, sobbing at every step, until he finally stops, and the boy switches on the light._

_And he's back in hell. The boy isn't a savior, he's Theon's devil, Theon's owner, Theon's master._

_The spark dies._

_It doesn't rekindle for three long years._


End file.
